


Maintain The Position

by Niler



Series: Common Ground [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>3rd part of the Common Ground series.  Takes place during the very first part of the WWA tour - circa April 2014? (I forget dates and stuff)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Maintain The Position

**Author's Note:**

> 3rd part of the Common Ground series. Takes place during the very first part of the WWA tour - circa April 2014? (I forget dates and stuff)

 

Maintain The Position

 

 

 

 

 

Zayn's angry, and he's not hiding it very well.

He thinks it's a basic flaw in his make-up that Zayn's moods have such an effect on him, but he can't even pretend he's tried to make it otherwise.

What Zayn feels has an effect on how he feels, and there's only so much he can do to hide that.

They've had that conversation, of course, and it didn’t end well – rarely does.

It's rare for them to be on the same page at the same time about this: sometimes it's _him_ advising caution, suggesting they go along, don't rock the boat. But when he's feeling militant Zayn's there to soothe his fevered brow and tell him to 'think about it, babe – we're best off doing what they say for now', and he'll grudgingly acquiesce.

He supposes it's a sort of balance, really, a _necessary_ balance, except this time the balance doesn’t feel like balance; it feels like defeat, like giving in – and making Zayn angry.

They knew it was going to be hard, just not this hard.

He'd honestly thought that being separated from him would be something he could handle; had believed that 'no OTT PDAs, guys' would be something he could take in stride, make work, shrug off the moment they were alone together – except they haven't really been allowed that 'privilege'.

Yes, he's aware that there's a certain amount of paranoia accompanying this tour (the thought of being kidnapped, of Zayn being kidnapped terrifies the hell out of him), but they are taking advantage of that, using that to force them apart, limit their privacy.

And he really isn't handling it as well as he'd assumed he would.

Zayn's got anger to bolster him, but Zayn's always been able to cope with things he can't, handle certain things better.

And he has a way of channelling his anger that Liam has yet to master.

So they're on slightly different pages with this, and it's making him feel even more alone, even more shitty than he's been feeling these past few weeks – and that's when he'd still thought he'd be able to deal.

It feels like ages since he and Zayn have been alone together.

He kissed him yesterday, but it was so rushed, and he'd had to persuade Paddy to step out for a few moments.

He is just not used to that anymore: for the past 6 months he's been able to sleep with Zayn every night if they were both at home, and to be in a position where he can't do that, has to allow his time with Zayn to be at the dictate of other people just makes him feel helpless, makes him question ever damn thing, because that's just not how it is, how he wants his relationship to be.

He's marrying him for god's sake; this isn't the Middle Ages, so how is anyone else allowed to tell him he can't be with the man he loves; can't let people _know_ he's with him?

But the fact is they _are_ allowed to, he has implicitly _given_ them permission to, which is why he feels so helpless, and why Zayn's anger makes him feel so guilty and sad.

He has absolutely no idea how he was able to cope with this for so long during last year's tour; but he and Zayn were not actively planning their wedding then, actively planning a life together, and things are just _different_ now.

So innocuous a word, that says so very little, because different doesn't even begin to describe the landscape of his heart, how its terrain bears no resemblance to the land he _used_ to inhabit before he asked and Zayn said 'yes'.

But their world, turning on its own axis, has collided with the 'real' world, turning on _its_ axis, and it's now up to him to see about making the two worlds co-exist without one seeking to destroy the other...

 

 

**

 

“You are definitely not who I'd choose to share my bed. No offence.”

“Offence taken.” Paddy's barely paying him attention, busy sorting through his playlist.

Sighing, Liam stares out the window.

Bogota is a beautiful city – what they've seen of it – and he is stoked to be here, butterflies in his stomach when they entered the stadium, saw the stage, stood on it, but all of it is underscored with the grief – no other word for it – he feels for him and Zayn; for the damage they're allowing to be brutally inflicted on their relationship.

Looking out on the city, on the lonely night makes him feel like crying.

“Got any decent tracks on that thing?” He turns from the grief, tries to set it at his back, along with the night view of the city.

“Depends.”

“On what, mate?” He isn't ready for sleep, too keyed up, afraid he'll sob like a baby if he lies in bed with only his thoughts for company. He could do with a distraction, but Paddy looks like he's settling in for the night.

“On whether your taste in music has improved.”

“Hey! I like Beyonce. _Love_ Beyonce!”

“Yeah, well that's not good taste, mate, that's just intelligence – common sense.”

“Whatever. I _will_ tweet an embarrassing pic of you in that leotard and high heels dancing to Single Ladies, you know.”

“You'd tweet yourself taking a whizz if it wasn't likely to get you kicked off Twitter!”

Liam laughs, snatches at Paddy's iPod, but of course Paddy's reflexes are lighting quick, and he grabs empty air. “I'm gonna surprise you!”

“Whatever, mate. Are you gonna get some kip or what?”

Sighing, Liam grabs his iPod and gets into bed.

He isn't sure Zayn's still awake – he seemed pretty tired earlier – and he doesn’t want to start blubbing, so talking to him isn't a good idea. He knows Paddy's there to make sure he and Zayn follow the rules, and though he'll turn a blind to some things, sometimes, he won't to everything, all the time, and since he doesn’t want to get him into trouble or feeling compromised, has already schooled himself to choose his Zayn moments with care.

This can't be one of them, and even that thought, even deciding that makes his gut seize and his eyes sting.

Turning on his side, away from Paddy he turns ons his iPod.

Loving Zayn is like nothing he ever thought he'd ever, ever experience. Loving someone that way always seemed like a dream, something you kind of fantasised about since it's what everyone believes in, but often only expected to achieve as a 1 in a million chance.

But when _he_ thought of a love like that, loving someone that much, he'd always been fearful of allowing himself to see them loving him back to the same degree.

He had never, ever imagined that anyone could love him the way Zayn loves him; still cannot understand why he does, what Zayn sees in him, has always seen in him.

Zayn told him last month that he loves him more every day, and Liam simply cannot understand it.

But he no longer tries, just accepts it, the way he accepts his fame and fortune – as something he has that only a tiny percentage of people ever get to experience, and to simply count his blessings.

He thinks Zayn far better at accepting his love, not because he thinks he's any more worthy, but because as Zayn tells him: 'eyes can't lie, babe' and he knows that whenever he looks at Zayn his feelings are plastered all over his face.

He smiles to himself as he recalls the visceral shock he got when he first saw footage of some of their interviews, stills and such, because his feelings were all over his damn face! He'd assumed he was just being normal, just doing an interview with the boys, but the way he was looking at Zayn...

Well, it was embarrassing, is what it was, and since then he's tried his best to keep that a little more under control.

But as Zayn would say again: 'eyes can't lie, babe'.

How can you actually _hide_ how you feel about a person? He's tried, had quite a bit of practice, so he knows it can be done – to a certain extent, for a certain amount of time – but the point is it can't be maintained. Sooner or later the mask will drop, and as everyone knows once you drop the mask it becomes exponentially more difficult to take it up and put it on again.

He hurt Zayn, he knows he did, but he didn't know how to be in love with him while not even fully understanding how to be an adult, be in a band, on the way to fame and attention.

Danielle was a mistake, he knows that. He was never in love with her, didn't even come close, but it seemed easier to just be pushed into going out with her, plus it seemed ungrateful to question her interest in him, question why everyone was so eager to see them together.

She and Zayn were like two cats spitting at each other – through him – and he has no idea now how he coped with that for so long. He knew Zayn was right about her – and she wrong about Zayn – but he hadn't been ready to make that stand, expose himself that way.

Because that would be a _choice_ and his choice would be out there, make him both strong and vulnerable, and it had taken him the longest time to find the courage to do that.

He sighs, rolls on to his back, flicking through his playlist, trying hard not to give in to the memories and the tears that are threatening the back of his throat, stinging his eyes.

He doesn't like to remember how his failure to do the right thing, the courageous thing hurt Zayn, and isn't that sort of what’s happening now? He should find a way to protect Zayn, the way he didn’t do when it came to Danielle, he just doesn't know how.

Not wanting Paddy to know he's crying, he turns on his phone and goes to his twitter account. He shouldn’t tweet when he's feeling low – Zayn and Louis have both bitten his head off about that – but he has to get it out, has to let people know that he's not okay, that it's not okay, that he hurt Zayn by being with someone he didn't want to be with and stayed with her when he knew she wasn't the one he wanted to be with; that he's hurting him now by being away from him, by still not being honest about who he is, about who he loves.

And sends it before he has a chance to change his mind.

He knows Zayn will see it, will get it, but knows Zayn's too sensitive at times, that he'll worry about him, find it hard to maintain the game when he knows Liam's hurting so much, but he had to send it.

He needs to show him even when he can't speak to him, can't be with him properly that he's always on his mind, always the first thing he thinks about when he wakes, the last thing at night...

Zayn hates Twitter, but Liam's told him that they should consider using it, using it for their own purpose, to send little messages to each other that other people won't be able to work out.

Well, that got his interest because Zayn's good at that kind of thing, thrives on it!

The thought of Zayn's sly smile cuts through the tears as he grins, wipes his eyes, and replays the track.

Who knows, maybe one day he'll even be able to stop hating her.

 

 

**

 

Harry congratulates him; says he did well; Niall hugs him. Zayn just stares.

Liam knows why he's upset, but he hates being persona non grata with him.

Zayn doesn't appreciate the fact that he can play the game so well, finds it insulting since his grief is something he finds almost impossible to hide.

But he _know_ s, knows damn well what it costs him to maintain that front! He _knows_!

Still, Liam isn't angry with him – that's just Zayn, just how he is.

“I am bloody glad that's over, though.” Louis is hovering beside him, not sure what to do now they're no longer in the press room: is he meant to stick by his side all the time or only when they know for sure there are cameras and journalists around? They all know the roles they're expected to play on the tour and none of them are happy about it – they've been together for years and have forged their friendship themselves; they hate being told how to interact with each other, who can only interact the barest minimum, who's allowed to interact to their hearts content – especially when it's about keeping him and Zayn apart.

But they've talked it through and have come to an agreement between them, and for now, they're going to follow the rules.

They're just not sure what constitutes the _stage_ right now.

“Wasn't too bad,” Niall says. “Even understood some of the Spanish questions.”

“Yes, Nialler, cos we all know you're the Placido Dominges of the pop world.”

“Enrique Eglesias, actually, Tommo.”

“He's hot!”

“Everyone guy under 50 is hot according to you, Harry.”

“He's got this little mole that is so sexy.”

“ _I've_ got a little mole,” Liam says jokingly, pretending to lift up his t-shirt, but when he catches Zayn's eye his smile drops.

“His mole's on his face – that's sexy,” Harry kindly clarifies.

“Shall we go?” Zayn says coolly, turning his back on the banter.

Harry and Niall glance at Liam, but say nothing.

Louis skips after Zayn and puts an arm around him.

Heart heavy, Liam grins at the others and says: “I was lying – I got some moles on me face.”

“And they are very sexy, Liam,” Harry assures him with heavy condescension, “But his is sexier.”

Liam pouts. “Not playing with you anymore.”

“Okay, how about this, see if this helps.” He places his lips against Liam's ear. “I was tempted to fight security, fight Paddy, get into your bed when I saw that selfie you posted on Twitter.” The whisper is accompanied by a hand expertly ghosting down his hip and across his arse, back up to his hip for a suggestive squeeze.

He's used to this sort of shit from Harry, but it never fails to have an effect.

“Aye aye, Styles, put him down,” Niall says, coming between them.

“Thanks, Nialler. I was thinking-”

“You'd have to fight _me_ before you got anywhere close!” And he's got a hand up the back of his shirt, nails scratching the small of his back.

Rolling his eyes, he's hardly aware that his heart is no longer feeling like a ten tonne rock in his chest and that it's his ego that's threatening to mow down everything in its path. “Like I'd let you anywhere near it – either of you.”

“Well, Niall, I suppose we'd have to take off the sign _first_.” Harry's expression is solemn.

“Wear gloves.”

“Protective suit of armour.”

“What sign?” Liam demands impatiently.

“The sign that says 'Zayn Malik's property – trespassers will be shot on sight and then woken up, shot again-'”

“Revived, torn limb from limb-”

“Re-animated, hung, drawn and quartered.”

He's laughing now, arm around Niall's waist, Harry's hand on his arm. “Jokers!”

What would he do without his friends?

 

 

 

**

 

The concert went well, but it was even harder than he'd been expecting.

He and Zayn were able to get a couple of minutes before the show and though he'd been forgiven for earlier, the heat is on – that had just been spelled out to them in no uncertain terms – and any idea they might have had to take liberties with the guidelines they've been given had just been blown out of the water.

So he had his first taster of what it was going to be like – making it seem like Zayn was no more to him than a member of the band, less to him than some.

Done that before, but never had it hurt in quite this way before.

The first thing he did when they got backstage was put an arm around him, stick by his side for as long as he possibly could. Since there were others there, people not part of their crew he couldn't do what he wanted, but just being free to be himself around Zayn was such a relief it was almost dizzying enough to make him wonder, honestly wonder if there was any way he could handle the stress of this for _any_ length of time?

Honestly? No way he could.

 

**

 

They have a feedback session and it seems like even though he broke his fucking heart doing what he did he fucked up all the same and they expect him to 'do better'. Apparently he wasn't supposed to cry during You and I and judging by the familiar cues some type of article will need to be written about that.

The others are so silent, their faces so neutral that he knows they are as angry as he is, and this makes him smile inside, since he knows that there'll be some mischief made in support of him, in support of Zayn - of him and Zayn. That's all he needs, to know that their friends have their backs, that they'll do whatever they can to make things easier for them.

That makes everything else just that much easier to bear.

 

 

**

 

“I know, babe. Me too.” Zayn feels like heaven, smells like paradise, tastes like nectar. It feels like months since they've been able to kiss, to embrace like this, and though he could live on this for the rest of his life, he is far too conscious of the fact that the clock is ticking, and has ticked over 10 minutes already and they haven't even managed to exchange more than a few words, too busy re-learning the taste and texture of the other's lips.

Kissing has always been a favourite thing of theirs, and they, by now, certainly know how to satisfy each other's sensuous side.

They promised themselves not to get too intense, to not make it too sexual, since there is no way they can go there for a while, and he swears they both tried, but it was natural, natural to let Zayn taste his tongue, to taste Zayn's and that only _ever_ led in one direction...

“I can't let you go,” he groans, pulling him back in for another kiss.

And Zayn allows himself to be pulled, no resistance at all, wrapping himself around Liam like the sensual creature he is, turning Liam's thermostat up, till it's actively flirting with the max safe level...

“Lads, come on!” Paddy sounds quite brusque and Liam guesses he's given them longer than agreed and expects to be obeyed - pronto - as a result of the concession.

“Better do as he says,” he sighs, wondering what the fuck he must look like. He knows what Zayn looks like and, groaning again, forces himself to look away, to straighten his own clothing and nod at Zayn to do the same before presenting himself to Paddy, who has the decency to be on the other side of the room, occupied and distracted.

“Love you,”Zayn whispers, leaning in to kiss him before quickly departing.

Liam stares at the door for a while, aware that Zayn was on the verge of tears.

When the hell will he be able to give Zayn everything he deserves, which certainly doesn't include snatched kisses in hotel bedrooms, the pretence that you barely care for him when he is the reason you draw breath every second of every day.

He turns to Paddy and Paddy looks at him, eyes soft with understanding.

“Fancy some Destiny's Child?”

“Soldier.”

“Paras.”

Liam laughs despite himself.

Thank god for Paddy.

 

 

**

 

It's not something that can be described.

No matter how jaded you think you've become, how accustomed to fame, accustomed to the way people are, seeing something like that jolts you into the recognition that there are some things that are inexplicable and therefore elude labels, elude the pose of emotional and intellectual ennui.

It makes you feel like a child again, a child presented with one of the seven wonders of the world where the idea of being jaded is so inappropriate as to be actually jarring.

He sees it first, but soon the others come out to witness for themselves.

He could understand one or two (okay one or two hundred perhaps) but this, this doesn't even make sense to him. They are not the audience at a concert, they are the crowd who've made their way to their hotel just in the hope of catching a glimpse of their tiny figures from a balcony 20 floors up. And that is just amazing.

He can actually feel himself trembling, his entire world-view taking a detour to the left.

How have they found themselves here?

Is this what he and Zayn are paying for – the privilege of getting to experience this?

Because of course it is – they are being adjured to follow the rules in order to maintain for a little longer, because this is big, so big the bigwigs have come out to ensure they don't fuck it up, to ensure the rules are adhered to, _new_ guidelines put in place if necessary.

And for the first time he really sees it, sees what the company stands to lose if they fuck up.

No pressure then.

No pressure at all.

Is it a price he and Zayn should be expected to pay?

Turning to Zayn he looks into his eyes and asks without asking.

Zayn puts an arm around him and his answer is what Liam expected, the answer he himself would have given if asked.

Awed by the sight, by the noise of the crowd, buoyed by Zayn's presence at his side, Liam considers his future...

 

**

 

The first text is from Louis:

**Put it away, man**

Then Niall:

**I see you're wearing the cap**.

Then harry

**I would. I definitely would.**

Then Louis again:

**Go to sleep. Seriously, mate and...sleep**

Harry:

**I wanna be your camera phone**

He waits and waits for Zayn to text him and just when he thinks he won't...

_**The fuck man? Harry woke me saying he was gonna do you if you didn't keep it buttoned and then I see all this stuff on twitter! Talk to me!** _

Grinning, heart racing, he sends him a picture and a text:

**Sext me, baby!**

_**I'll sext you so hard you won't be able to get up out of your bed! We'll have to get you to sing your solos from your bed with a live feed to the stadium!** _

**You been eating your spinach, popeye?**

_**You really wanna go there?** _

**Ask a stupid question..**

 

Zayn sends him a selfie.

**Oh like that?**

_**You know it!** _

 

**

 

“Come on, man, what's got into you! It is 7.30!” Paddy's already dressed, looks exasperated.

“Wha-?”

“You been on the phone all night aint ya?” Clicking his teeth he unceremoniously hauls the sheets off the bed. “Up! I will confiscate that bloody thing in a minute. Get yourself decent. And do not take that fucking thing in with you!”

“As if,” he says, picking up his phone.

“I mean it. And anyway, he's probably still sleeping. And you know he's not gonna answer for love or money at this hour of the morning.”

Liam sticks out his tongue in Paddy's general direction, too out of it to focus properly. “He'll answer.”

Paddy's rude snort is ignored as he makes his way to the bathroom.

He rings Zayn and beams like a man besotted when Zayn's voice, thick with sleep answers on the second ring. “You up?”

“Only just. Paddy had to chuck cold water over me.”

Zayn chuckles. “Same.” Liam hears him reach for his cigarettes.

“No fags today, you said.”

“Just one, babe.”

“Okay, but we have to stick to the rules, okay?”

“Okay.” Liam hears him light up, inhale deeply. “You cool?”

“Did I have a quiet wank, you mean?”

Zayn laughs, coughs a little. “Did you?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“No idea - it's why I asked.”

“I’ll tell you later,” he promises, lowering his voice. “Hold on I'm getting a text.” He looks at his phone: it's from Louis. “It's Tommo. Hang on a sec.”

**You recovered yet or will I find you ravished and chained up in some fan's cellar somewhere?**

 

Laughing, he reads it to Zayn, who isn't amused. “Just let them try!” he threatens.

Rolling his eyes Liam merely says. “I think I'd be able to handle a few fans, babe.”

“You ever heard of rohypnol?”

Snorting with laughter, he's about to answer when Paddy knocks on the door. “Man, Paddy's knocking down the bathroom door. Gotta go. See you in a bit.”

“In a bit, babe. Love you.”

“Love you more than life, babe.”

“Same.”

“In a bit.”

“In a bit.”

 

 

 


End file.
